


Oh L'amour

by Auggusst



Series: Heart and Mind [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aggressive Steve, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blood, Bond Sickness, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Insults, Intimidation, M/M, Name-Calling, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pregnancy, Pregnant Tony Stark, Self Loathing, Swearing, Violence, a hydra guy gets beat into a pulp, angry outburst, beating the villain into a pulp, emotional shitstorm, intimidating!tony stark, physical altercation, steve snaps, the villain says icky shit about tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: 7 weeks after the disaster in Siberia, Tony is trying to adjust to his new life and changing body when he gets an unpleasant visit from Secretary Ross. On the other side of the world, Steve's team tracks down their latest target, and the blond's grasp on his sanity has a momentary lapse, much to the lament of a certain Hydra agent. Bond Sickness is a hell of a thing.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Heart and Mind [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670740
Comments: 50
Kudos: 287





	Oh L'amour

**Author's Note:**

> Please listen to Oh L'amour by Erasure I could listen to that song All. Day. Long. 
> 
> Also, whooo boy, we're really getting into it now. I did say that this series would be more serious, that it'd be darker. I will continue to give warnings and proper tags of course, but yeah. It's certainly heavier than The Soldier And The Scientist!  
> Remember, there will be a happy ending! There's a light at the end of the long tunnel lol, and trust me, it's a long tunnel.  
> For everyone invested and taking the time to comment, thank you so much!! It really means a lot to me to see you guys engage with the story, and to see you wanting more. I love that my fics can bring some entertainment in these trying times <3

The bedroom felt so _empty_.

It had for weeks now, seven in fact. He was keeping count.

Steve’s scent still lingered, but was starting to grow faint, which was logical, given his absence, but still hurt. Tony sought it where he could. He slept on Steve’s side, mostly, his face tucked into the pillows so he could get a whiff of that familiar, comforting scent. It was a double-edged blade though; the more he gave in to it, the more he kept the smell of Steve close, the more he missed him, and missing him was something he tried desperately hard not to do. He was still angry. He was still hurt. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay again, that he could ever truly forget what had happened.

He also knew that part of him would always yearn, always feel empty without Steve at his side.

It was hard. All of it was hard. The weeks crawled by, and Tony only seemed to get worse. The downturn was gradual, at least, instead of hitting him all at once like he expected. The morning sickness came first, although he wasn’t sure why it was called ‘morning sickness’ if it came in the _middle of the afternoon,_ or evening, or late at night. After a few days of it, Tony didn’t even remember what it was like not to feel nauseous. He had a hard time keeping anything down.

God, he hated throwing up. It always hit him so violently. He couldn’t just throw up a little like a normal person. No. Whenever he vomited, _everything_ came back up, until he had nothing left to give.

Rhodey was always there though. Embarrassingly enough, this situation wasn’t the first time he’d rubbed Tony’s back as he was bent over a toilet, and probably wouldn’t be the last. It reminded him of their days at MIT, and that was equal parts endearing and terrifying. Tony hadn’t been in a good way then. He wasn’t in a good way now either.

He hid it well. He hid behind work, like the automated mobilization braces he’d designed for Rhodey’s legs, and devoted time helping him get used to them. He avoided the DoD like the plague. Any calls for Avengers were answered by Vision, and on occasion, Rhodey. If they needed back up, Tony didn’t mind a little long-distance fighting, from the safety of his lab, simply giving his suit verbal directions, but actually going out there? That was out of the question. Even if he weren’t carrying, he wasn’t sure he could fight anymore. The memory of everything in Siberia left more than a bitter taste in his mouth, and an uncomfortable blanket of fear around his limbs.

Yes, he avoided Secretary Ross, as much as he could. Tony refused to show for meetings in person, always had a convenient excuse to hold virtual meetings instead, where the Secretary would be none the wiser as to the changing state of his body. It wasn’t that he thought Ross would do something irrational, per se, if he knew Tony was carrying Steve’s child, but something about him knowing, about him being close to the situation put Tony on edge. Having _anyone_ know about it felt dangerous. He’d only left the compound for an initial debriefing after Steve infiltrated The Raft. He hadn’t really gone anywhere since. Between dealing with his bruised rib and sprained elbow, and adjusting to his new reality, and the new routine that had come with it(lots of prenatal vitamins and constant checkups, plenty of research and planning in addition to his _actual_ work) it was just better for him to stay home.

He was tired.

The morning sickness had dropped off mostly, finally, but what came next was worse. It was the loneliness, he was sure, that would do him in. He _ached_. No matter what he did, how he distracted himself, no matter how many countless hours Rhodey stayed at his side, or how many times Pepper visited, or how many jokes Happy told, it wouldn’t abate. His neck was sore and sensitive, the pain his bond mark brought growing harder and harder to ignore as the days passed. He was quicker to cry than usual, and easy to anger, though if that came from his pregnancy or the general disarray of his life, he wasn’t sure.

That wasn’t all. He was…it was as if he was in the beginning stages of getting the flu, where something felt off, but you weren’t entirely sure what, and it left you kind of dazed and irritable, until it hit you, with chills, and a runny nose, and a cough, and a fever, and a headache, and every other stupid symptom in the book, until you were absolutely miserable, and couldn’t focus on anything except how miserable you were. He wasn’t quite there yet with all the symptoms, but at 14 weeks into his pregnancy, seven weeks without Steve, it was getting harder to get out of bed. He was more exhausted than usual, needed more food (the cravings had set in and sometimes even he was horrified at what he found appealing) and although his injuries had healed, they’d just been replaced with new discomfort.

Sometimes, all Tony wanted to do was stay in bed. It was getting harder to stay _in_ the bed too though, because it felt so empty. He found himself cycling through Steve’s wardrobe, chose a garment each night to cling to, to keep close. Sleep had always been hard to come by, and still was, without Steve at his side. He thought having his mate’s scent close by could split the difference. It wasn’t enough though, and he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

He thought about calling. He thought about texting. Steve had tried, a few times, inquired after his health, kept apologizing. Tony didn’t answer his messages. He didn’t know what to say. Sometimes he thought about laying into him, about calling him hurtful names and saying things that he knew would make Steve feel bad about himself, but it wouldn’t make him feel better, would it? It wouldn’t fix the world, wouldn’t take back the shit that had happened.

The brunet heaved a sigh where he sat on the edge of the bed. He’d been pretty adamant about fixing it every morning(even if it took him until almost noon to do so). Something about having a set routine made things more tolerable. He was glad the medical staff had suggested it.

He set aside Steve’s hoodie, which he’d been trying to put down for the last few minutes. It was a dark blue, and one of his favorites. Rhodey insisted staying attached like that wasn’t beneficial, and even suggested Tony switch bedrooms in the compound to get some distance from Steve’s scent, but the brunet was adamant at refusing him. He could suffer the absence of Steve himself, but without his scent to settle his instincts, he thought he’d go insane.

Tony’s hand drifted to his belly. He was sporting a bump now, small, but easily visible when he stood straight. Steve still didn’t know. The more time went on, the more loathe Tony was to tell him. He could make it without Steve, couldn’t he? He didn’t _need_ him here. Steve obviously hadn’t needed him, or he wouldn’t have left. Well, if he left, then he didn’t deserve to have any part of this, didn’t deserve to watch their child grow. It didn’t matter how many apologies he sent.

That didn’t change the fact Tony wanted him there, though. He wanted things to be perfect. He wanted Steve at his side, wanted to have a family with him. He wanted his happy days back, missed Steve’s gentle touch. Besides, how could he even tell him about the pregnancy? How would Steve react if he knew? Would he try to come back, risk the ire of the UN? Part of him wanted that. He wanted Steve to come back to him, to make everything better, like he had in the past. That was out of the question though. Steve was to blame for all of this, had fucked things up for the both of them, and Ross and the other officials made it abundantly clear that Steve wouldn’t simply walk free if he came home. They were offering quite a generous reward for even _hints_ of Steve’s location.

If Steve came home, he wouldn’t be allowed to stay. He’d be locked up, most likely permanently.

Naturally, they hounded Tony about it too. Given his resources, the UN figured he was the best person to find Steve, and although he agreed, he did very little to steer their search. He always told them he had nothing to offer, lied to their faces, even as the weight of the flip phone in his pocket pressed against his thigh. He didn’t know exactly where Steve was, didn’t want to know. Knowing would just make him do something he regretted, would make him want to go out there and find him, so he could scream in his face, so he could shout out every damning thought that filled his brain. No, Steve’s occasional updates, his desperate outreaches were plenty, or so Tony told himself. It was better this way.

Still, it was hard. He thought about Steve all the time, much more than he wanted to, and his opinion drifted from hatred to disdain to longing and circled back around. All the while, he felt worse, could feel that flu-like ache settle in deep as the days passed.

The baby seemed to be doing fine at least, which was most important of all. Tony’s weekly checkups kept a close eye, and they monitored his health carefully, offered as much advice as possible to lessen the effects of his Bond Sickness. Tony would take it, would take the pain and discomfort and _grief_ , if it meant his child got off scotch-free. It seemed to be working so far.

Tony took a breath. He still had to eat lunch before Pepper arrived. She was helping him plan the nursery. They’d already carved out room for it in the compound. The room next to his and Steve’s bedroom had been used for storage initially, but they’d cleared all of that out, moved it further down the hall. Some eager busy-bodies might say they were a little late to start the planning process, but there was a lot going on the first few weeks home, a lot to figure out, and besides, they could get the room finished with plenty of time to spare.

He smiled a little, thinking about it. He’d always found nesting comforting, even if he’d never fully given in to the urge. Now though? He couldn’t wait to get the nursery set up. It’d be a good distraction.

He was looking forward to seeing Pepper too. There was always something so un-complex about her kindness, about her attention, that settled him. She had answers for everything, understood him without words. Although they didn’t quite click romantically, he valued her friendship wholeheartedly. He knew she would comfort him, be there for him through all of this. She said as much, and had made as much time as possible to be with him thus far. He was also quite sure that if she ever caught sight of Steve with her own eyes, he’d encounter a force to be reckoned with.

The thought made him laugh a little.

His happiness was short-lived, unfortunately, as FRIDAY cut through the quiet with an announcement. 

_Boss, Secretary Ross is on the premises._

Tony’s heart stopped. The smile dropped from his face immediately. “What? Did he call? Is—Is he alone?” he asked, straightening up. This little visit was _not_ scheduled, and the implications were less than good.

_He’s alone. He doesn’t look happy. Should I let him in?_

Tony knew he couldn’t really send Ross packing, at least not without a good excuse. He was drawing a blank now, couldn’t think of one. What the hell did the Secretary want? It was most assuredly something to do with Steve. A sense of panic swept through him. Ross would see him now, truly see him. He’d hoped to keep his pregnancy a secret as long as possible, but that wasn’t an option now.

“No one needs to know,” he’d told Rhodey, when they discussed it. “It’s my personal business. I’m not obligated to share the details of my personal life.”

“You know, you’ve had a lot of dumb ideas over the years, but that one might take the cake,” Rhodey had replied. “You really think you can keep it under wraps? You think you _should_?”

Tony frowned, crossed his arms. “It would be all over the internet in a heartbeat. I don’t trust the DoD to give me the dignity of keeping the news secret. I don’t want to be a goddamn spectacle. I deserve more respect than that. When the baby’s born, and things are settled, I’ll hold a press conference.”

Rhodey had sighed, shook his head. “And what will Steve think? He hears nothing from you for almost a year, and then finds out he has a kid? You think he has the brains to stay away at that point? I doubt he’d keep his distance.”

“That’s….that’s not my responsibility. Whatever he does, whatever mistakes he makes are not my problem. This is my plan, and I’m sticking to it. I’ll deal with the consequences after,” Tony had said firmly.

Well, it seemed the consequences had been pushed up the timetable a bit.

He took a breath, tried to slip on his mental mask. “Let him in. Send him to the conference room.”

Secretary Ross looked just as smugly unpleasant as Tony remembered. He’d seen him over video feed recently, of course, but something about being in the same room as him made Tony’s lips threaten to curl back into a sneer. He hated the guy, he really did. He’d only been willing to work with Ross in the first place because he understood the need for the Accords, and the inevitability of them. Now, with things so spectacularly fucked up, and his life forever disrupted, he had a lot less tolerance for the man.

Secretary Ross was standing at the head of the conference table with his arms crossed when Tony entered the room. The Alpha’s scent was less than appealing to Tony, always had been. He had to keep from crinkling his nose in disgust.

Tony exhaled softly, head raised, and offered the smallest of smiles. “To what do I owe this little visit, Mr. Secretary?”

Ross regarded him somewhat suspiciously. His gaze travelled down Tony’s form, lingered on the clear but gentle curve of his abdomen, but he didn’t seem particularly surprised. He placed a hand on his belt, gave Tony a little nod. “Looks like the rumor I heard is true,” he started. “I suppose congratulations are in order, Stark.”

Tony scoffed, frowned a little. Of course. He was naïve to think they weren’t keeping tabs on him. There’d been so many things on his mind lately that he didn’t think to check for leaks, didn’t think to monitor his employees. Then again, who would’ve thought one of them would go blabbing to the DoD? He was sure there was some kind of bribery involved. There always was. “Rumor? Don’t you mean intelligence briefing?” he replied, plenty accusatory.

“Now who said anything about that?” Ross replied. He rubbed his knee, and winced— it must have been aching— and put a hand on the nearest chair. “May I?” he asked, though pulled it out and moved to sit without waiting for an answer.

“No,” Tony said firmly. He wasn’t in the mood for dealing with Ross trying to be cute. He was _angry_ , honestly, though held it inside. He knew there was something attached to this, that the Secretary didn’t come to make small talk. He wasn’t looking forward to discovering the reason for his visit.

Ross paused, mid sit, and Tony expected him to ignore the protest, but he didn’t. His face grew a little less kind, though, and he straightened, dropped his hand off of the back of the chair. There was a tense pause.

“You know, according to HIPAA, it’s illegal to disclose a patient’s medical records without their express permission,” the brunet jabbed, taking a step forward.

Ross gave him a tight little smile. “Oh, I agree, and were you some nameless, everyday citizen, your privacy would be upheld. But given the fact that you’re an Avenger, and under the jurisdiction of the United Nations, and there was reason to suspect you were withholding valuable information regarding the missing fugitives, we took the liberty of doing a little search.”

Tony could feel a growl bubbling up in his throat. He shoved it down, but his shoulders raised, and his body tensed. By the way Ross turned up his nose, he could sense the change in Tony’s scent, could feel that he was irritated. He wasn’t the type to roll over, unfortunately, and stood back at his full height, regarded Tony challengingly across the room.

It _infuriated_ Tony. Here the man was, standing in his home, admitting to completely invading his privacy without a shred of remorse. He wanted to punch him. Hard.

“I told you everything I know,” Tony snapped. “I haven’t spoken to any of them since the day they fled. I gave you a search algorithm. If your technicians are too stupid to work with it, that isn’t my fault.”

“And we’re very glad for your help,” Ross replied, as if he meant it. “Unfortunately, the longer we go without a hit, the more restless the UN becomes. They might even be considering banning hero work outright.”

It was a bluff, Tony was sure. The world _needed_ the Avengers, there was no way around it. The four missions in the last month and a half had proven that much. He knew Ross was pleading a case, giving him a song and dance. “Your point?” Tony sighed. The longer this conversation went on, the more restless he got.

“We’re having no luck with the aid of technology, but there are other methods of bringing people out from the shadows.” Ross’s eyes swept over Tony’s form once more, and the way he did it made Tony’s heart hammer in his chest. “Incentive is a hell of a conflict resolver.”

The brunet’s voice was tight. It got a little hard to breathe. “What are you suggesting?”

The Secretary took a step forward. “Given your recent medical records, it’s safe to assume that Captain Rogers was unaware of your pregnancy before he damned the Accords, am I right?”

Tony said nothing, but nodded slowly. He didn’t like where this was going, not one bit, and clenched his jaw shut before he said or did something he regret. If he ended up murdering the Secretary of State, that would complicate things for _everyone_.

“Let’s say we make a public announcement. Given his history, and his stubborn nature, I assume Rogers would try to contact you once he found out about you carrying, regardless of the risks. You let him, and we’ll cut a deal. He and the others serve a prison sentence, one to two years, and fall in line under the Accords. For all their resentment, and the disrespect they’ve shown, they’re valuable assets, and we need them on the playing field, following _our_ rules. For his compliance, Rogers will get to come back to you, and have the pleasure of seeing his child grow up. He refuses? Well, there’s been some talk of a termination order, like the one pinned on his good friend Barnes. No one is quite excited about the concept of killing Captain America, but, his actions may afford him the title of terrorist in the future.”

Tony stared at him in disbelief, his eyes dark and angry. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe Ross was proposing a plan like this. “Are you fucking insane?” he asked. He didn’t have the energy to be polite anymore. “You think you can use me, use my child, as a _bargaining chip_?” A hand curled around his belly possessively, and this time, he couldn’t quite quell the rumble that slipped out of his throat. “What makes you think I’d agree to that? I don’t even want him here. If I did, he’d be here by now, regardless of your damn Accords.”

“Careful there,” Ross replied, lifting a finger. He was frowning now too, impatient with his tone. “You’re not safe here either. Your loyalty, your deference has been brought into question too. I’d watch my words if I were you, and would be much more willing to cooperate, if you don’t want to end up like Barton. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying his prison sentence very much.”

The brunet took a step forward, eyes narrowing. “Are you _threatening_ me?” he asked, and the challenge in his voice wasn’t lost on Ross.

“Of course not,” the man replied, but his eyes said otherwise. “I’m simply saying compliance would be in the best interest of you, your mate, and your child.” He nodded at Tony’s stomach.

Tony stood fuming, at the audacity of Ross, at the gall of the UN, but most of all, at the lack of intelligence from either party. They really thought he’d agree to any of this? That he could be pressured into it? They really thought they knew what he wanted? He was Tony Fucking Stark. It would take more than petty threats to bend him to their will. He wasn’t one for empty promises, didn’t trust in gifts ‘assured’ by the government. No, he wasn’t theirs to control, to _use_. The only man who could ever break him already had, and he’d left him on the cold, hard ground.

But, Steve was _his_ , _his mate_ , and Ross and his associates couldn’t take Steve from him, couldn’t make Tony manipulate him, hand him over on a silver platter. Steve would never agree to it all anyway. It would end in a firefight, like it always did. It would end with Steve dying to uphold his morals, with the world in pieces behind him, because that’s who Steve _was_. He fought, endlessly, until there was nothing left, like he’d done a few weeks ago. Being stuck in the aftermath was painful enough. The thought of being _used_ , of being forced to relive it all again, against his will, made Tony sick.

His breathing had turned shaky, but it wasn’t fear making him short of breath. “Get the fuck out of my house,” he said, in as low a tone as he could manage. He didn’t want it to escalate. He really didn’t. All the same, he wouldn’t listen to another second of this snake’s words.

Ross bristled, raised his chin. “I’d be careful about my words if I were you. Despite popular belief, not even you’re above the reach of the government,” he replied.

That was it. Tony couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn’t suppress his instincts, couldn’t convince his biology that it wasn’t worth lashing out, and he crossed the room in swift steps, grabbed Ross by the shirt. He knew it was potentially a mistake, knew the trouble it could cause, but couldn’t find it in him to care. Ross was dangerous, a threat in his hindbrain, and Tony was going to protect his territory, his future. He had the sense not to call his suit at least. After all, the Secretary had to walk out of here unharmed. But, it was within Tony’s right to rough him up a little if he wanted to.

He glared up at the man, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “If you ever threaten me or my child again, you won’t have a government to crawl back to with your tail between your legs.”

Ross feigned nonchalance, but his shoulders were tight, and there was an edge to his scent that betrayed his discomfort. He hadn’t been anticipating such a strong reaction, had never really come face to face with a Tony who wasn’t suppressing his instincts, who didn’t intentionally make himself smaller. Tony knew the value of being docile, of letting others call the shots or assume they had the upper hand. It was only when he needed to that he stopped restraining himself, that he let the truth become apparent.

Secretary Ross had never seen him like this, had never known what it was like for Tony Stark to truly posture as an Alpha, and he suddenly didn’t have to wonder why Stark and Rogers were so well matched.

The Secretary exhaled sharply, tried to stay calm. He didn’t want this turning physical, knew he couldn’t risk hurting Tony, but his instincts wouldn’t let him roll over.

“Bold words, Stark,” he said, huffed a little. “I wonder what the UN will think of them. I’m sure they’ll sound quite lovely when we play them back in your prison cell.”

Tony let out a dark little laugh, his hold on Ross’s shirt tightening. At this rate, it’d be permanently wrinkled.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You have _no_ idea what I’m capable of, none of you do. I could break your whole world if I wanted to, split it apart at the seams, rip it up like confetti, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. I have the resources, I have the abilities, and most importantly, I have the spine for it, and you know that. None of you would be able to stop me.”

Ross’s eyes widened marginally, and Tony’s words sunk in deep. He didn’t doubt that Stark was dangerous, had always assumed so, but figured his guilt, his savior complex would keep him from turning on them all. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of the truth. He knew that if Tony Stark decided it was all over, it would be. He swallowed hard, and Tony kept talking.

“The things I’ve done, the sacrifices I’ve made? The things I’ve _suffered_ for _your sake,_ for _everyone’s_ sake…I don’t owe you anything, or anyone else for that matter. Keep testing me, keep _pushing_ me, and I will gladly set everything on fire and watch it burn, and that is a goddamn promise.”

There was something in the brunet’s gaze, in the tone of his voice, that made Ross believe him, and suddenly, he didn’t think he, or anyone else for that matter, had the upper hand on Tony Stark. He remained silent, suppressed the growl that had grown in his chest at being handled so roughly by another Alpha. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. He needed Tony’s cooperation, in the long run, and attacking him now would surely be the death of all of his plans.

Although it hurt him to do it, Ross bared his neck just a fraction of an inch, enough for Tony’s sharp eyes to catch it, and to convince him to let go.

Tony dropped his hand, took a step back, and raised his head proudly. There was a moment of suspension, where the Secretary regained his bearings, and regarded Tony with hesitant eyes. Tony was still too upset to be pleased by that look.

“Get out of my house,” he repeated, nodding in the direction of the exit. “I’m sure you remember where the door is.”

Ross silently adjusted his shirt, and his tie. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze. “I’ll be in touch,” he grumbled. He smoothed out his coat, shot Tony a quick glare, and moved swiftly to the door. Judging by the unhappy slump of his shoulders, he could feel the weight of Tony’s fiery eyes on his back as he left.

The brunet let out a sharp exhale when he was alone. That was _not_ how he had intended to spend the morning. He should’ve seen it coming, honestly, and was plenty upset at himself that he didn’t. Furthermore, he’d threatened the Secretary of State, pretty candidly. Would there be consequences? If he weren’t so angry right now, he would fear the worst, knew that his anxiety would catch up with him eventually.

For now, his eyes swept around the empty room, and a frown settled on his face, and he made his way to the Med-bay. Someone had betrayed him, and he was going to find out _who_.

By the time he made it across the compound, the staff had gathered in the hall, thanks to FRIDAY. Their faces expressed confusion, hesitance, even boredom in a few instances, until they saw the look on Tony’s face, could smell the irritation in his scent, and suddenly, wariness rightfully replaced all of their expressions. The room was tense, and silent.

Tony took a couple of breaths. He was a little winded, honestly. He’d walked faster than he intended, spurred on by his anger, and the lasting effects of his bruised rib, and the ever-present fatigue made it kind of difficult to move like before. He needed to breach this subject immediately though, couldn’t afford to wait to do it.

He stood in the doorway, before the small crowd of twenty or so, regarded them with equal suspicion and disappointment. A sharp little smile set on his face. He could see Celene a few feet away, looking concerned. He didn’t spare her a glance at the moment.

“It’s come to my attention,” he started, “that my medical records have been released to the Department of Defense.”

No one spoke.

He took a step forward.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but every document that passes through this facility, in regards to myself, and the rest of the team, is stored on the Stark Secure Server, and only becomes publicly available with my approval. Am I right?”

There was no verbal response, but a few heads nodded here or there. The medical staff looked like frightened school children who’d just gotten a visit from the principal, only, their jobs were potentially at stake now.

Tony rarely got cross with his employees. He didn’t interact with them that much on a daily basis, and understood that their struggles were different than his own, so on the off chance a conflict climbed up the corporate ladder, he usually ruled in the favor of the subordinate employee. His relationship with his board members when he was still CEO of SI was a little more strained, and no doubt led to them eagerly helping Stane attempting to lock him out of the company. Tony’s retribution had been swift in that instance, but just. He was never cruel intentionally. He was generally well liked as a boss, especially around the medical facility here, because he knew when to defer to their knowledge, understood their wishes and needs, and listened. They’d patched him and the others up time and time again, and were always a major help out on the field during mission clean up.

Thus far, they hadn’t disappointed him, or angered him. Now, they’d done both.

Tony took slow steps through the crowd. The group of medical professionals split ways for him. “I know I certainly didn’t approve the release of any records pertaining to my pregnancy, or even the list of my recent injuries. So how is it, I wonder, that I just received a visit from the Secretary of Defense, where he candidly expressed knowledge of my condition? Let me answer that for you: Somebody leaked, and I’m going to find out who.”

The tension was palpable. The workers exchanged glances, some suspicious, others wary, and some even a little excited. They’d never seen Tony like this, really. He never had a reason to be unsatisfied with their work before. He’d never found a fox in the chicken coop before either, never needed to be angry.

Tony stopped moving, looked around at all of them. He held up a hand. “Here’s the way this is gonna work: If you shared any information, of your own free will or otherwise, step forward. I’m perfectly capable of finding out who did it on my own, but if I have to spend time and energy doing that, the consequences will be much more severe. If you’re worried about the government, don’t be. They do have rules to follow, certain procedures, even if they tell you otherwise. I, on the other hand, have no such qualms, especially now. Step forward, look me in the eyes and tell me you did it, and we’ll put this thing to rest.”

There was a pause. No one moved. The seconds drew on, and Tony’s irritation only grew. His jaw was clenched, almost painfully, and he felt unpleasantly warm all over, his heart hammering in his chest.

Finally, someone moved. From the back of the crowd, one of the operating room assistants stepped forward. He was kind of young, maybe late twenties, and by the shame on his face, and the fear in his eyes, it was clear he was indeed the culprit. Tony had to commend his bravery though, the fact that he was willing to own up to his actions. From what Tony remembered of his employee file, he was an Omega, which made it even more impressive. An angry Alpha was tough to step up to.

Tony took in his young face, his side-swept blond hair. _‘Of course he’s blond,’_ he thought. _‘I’m starting to think blonds are out to get me.’_ He was about the same height as Tony, but shrunk in on himself a little now. Tony could see the way his hands were shaking.

“I did it,” he said, voice soft. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. They approached me, pressured me into it, and—I—I needed the money. My wife just got diagnosed with cancer, and my son broke his leg, and I just—we can’t—“

Tony held up a hand, signaled for him to be quiet. The young man, named Michael according to his nametag, fell silent. His gaze was fixed on the floor, submissive.

The brunet took a deep breath. At least the culprit had acted out of desperation, and not with malicious intent. Still, this betrayal couldn’t be forgiven. He had to make an example. Leaking secrets could _not_ be tolerated.

Tony crossed his arms, exhaled through his nose.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. Henceforth, your employment at Stark Industries is terminated. Clean out your locker, take your belongings, and go. You won’t set another foot on this premises, and your access card will be revoked. Given this is your first transgression, no matter how severe it is, I’ll continue to pay you wages for a month, in addition to the Christmas Bonus you were going to receive at the end of the year. Use it to help your family and find yourself another job.”

The relief in Michael’s eyes was palpable. He must have been expecting a lot worse. Tony had half a mind to give it to him, but knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t send him off without a warning though.

Tony continued speaking, held up an index finger.

“But if you ever, _ever_ , cross me like this again, trust me, you’ll regret it.” He looked around the room. “That goes for any of you!” he barked. “I’ve got enough on my plate, enough people breathing down my neck. If you don’t want me to do the same to you, I’d watch your behavior, and encourage you to think twice about what you’re doing.”

A few of them flinched at the volume of his voice, managed to look guilty even though they hadn’t done anything. Michael whispered his thanks, his breath shaky, and his apologies, which were sincere, and slipped back through the crowd to collect his things. He’d been sufficiently terrified.

There was a moment of suspension, where everyone waited for Tony to dismiss them, or to keep shouting, or something, and he heaved an irritated sigh. Tony licked his lips. “That’s it. Get back to work.”

The crowd dispersed, and the room was mostly emptied. For the first time in roughly half an hour, the tension bled out of his limbs. He could think a little clearer, but that only made him aware of new issues. Tony’s chest was tight and felt unpleasant from his rapidly beating heart. His hands shook a little now, and the pain radiating from his bond mark took center stage in his mind again. That was enough excitement for the day, for the week, honestly, and it was catching up with him now. He took a shaky breath, braced a hand on the wall for stability.

Nurse Celene was at his side in seconds. She didn’t lay her hands on him, still a little off-put by his uncharacteristic display of dominance, almost four months pregnant no less, but the concern was clear on her face. “Are you alright?” she asked. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, but even so his legs felt a little weak. Nausea surged up in his stomach, and he fought the urge to gag. “I’m just—I’m just stressed.”

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that stress isn’t good for the baby,” she replied, gently laying a hand on his arm. “You should rest.”

“Pepper’s coming over,” Tony said with a shake of his head. “We’ve got stuff to do. I’m not staying here.” The thought of staying in the Med-bay for even another second right now set him on edge.

“Let me walk you back, then. Get you comfortable,” Celene offered.

Tony nodded, brushed a hand over his face. “Okay,” he replied.

Tucked comfortably into the side of the massive couch in the living room where Celene had respectfully left him, a blanket around his knees and an assortment of snacks on the coffee table in front of him(god, he missed coffee. He could afford a cup of decaf on occasion, but it didn’t quite scratch the itch, so he didn’t bother) it was easier to think. The nausea had abated, though Tony felt exhausted, still a little on edge. He had a suspicion a headache would set in later too, could feel the pin pricks forming above his brow.

Pepper would arrive any minute, thankfully, and provide a well needed distraction. God, Tony still couldn’t believe what had happened. He’d been betrayed, _again_ , had let his guard down too far again, and had no idea what sort of consequences there would be. Ugh. He’d really threatened Ross without a second thought. That wasn’t the smartest move, he was sure, but agreeing to his conditions was out of the question.

Something told him the Secretary wouldn’t stop though, that the conversation wasn’t truly over, and despite himself, he felt a twinge of fear on Steve’s behalf. Steve could take care of himself, he always could. Steve was infuriatingly strong, would survive anything. Tony supposed that’s what made it so easy for Steve to leave. He hated that, hated everything about it. He hated Steve, hated what he’d done to them. All the same, concern bubbled up, and he had a hard time driving it down. Tony frowned a little, popped a blueberry into his mouth.

 _‘You should warn him,’_ he thought, and couldn’t seem to get it out of his head. After a few minutes trying and failing to ignore the idea, the brunet sighed, and pulled the little flip phone, the goddamn stupid burner phone which Steve had sent him, and which he always carried despite himself, out of his pocket.

He opened the message window, looked over the messages Steve had sent in the last few days. Tony would ignore them for now. He couldn’t bring himself to respond to any of them.

This wasn’t about their relationship, he told himself. It was about warning the team, about making them aware that the UN was escalating their search. This was about protecting the world, he told himself. It certainly had nothing to do with the memory of Steve’s fingers, soft and light, reverently brushing down his cheek, with the way he smiled, warm and bright, mere days before everything went to hell.

Maybe it had a little to do with that.

Whatever. Tony huffed, frowned to himself, and pushed at the little buttons.

[Watch your back. Ross is coming for you. Might turn into a kill order.]

He sent the text. Tony paused then, his finger hovering over the buttons. He wanted to say more. He wanted to ask questions, hard, burning questions, but he was afraid of the answers. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for them, wasn’t sure how to move forward, or if they could move forward. He asked himself every day, knew he would have a choice to make eventually. Could he truly cut Steve out of his life forever? Or could he find a way to forgive him for his stupidity, for his rash, destructive behavior? _Should_ he forgive Steve? Tony wasn’t sure.

The brunet swallowed hard. Despite himself, he started typing again.

[Stay safe.]

* * *

It’d been seven weeks and a day since Steve ruined everything.

Steve was keeping track, of course. He counted the days on the calendar of his little phone, alongside the messages he’d sent that were piling up without responses.

Each lapse of silence felt worse than the last, made him wonder what he could say, what he could do. He had always hated when Tony was silent. Whenever Tony argued with him, he could handle it, felt evenly matched, a kind of joy even through the pain, but whenever Tony gave him the silent treatment, it was unbearable. Tony’s voice was always a soothing sound, settled something deep in his chest. Living without it was maddening.

He tried to focus on the mission instead, or, missions, to be exact. The Hydra cell Natasha had discovered was good at covering their tracks, especially since the team’s resources were limited. It seemed to be a never-ending game of cat and mouse, with them inching closer, closing in, only for the masterminds of the operation to slip through their fingers. It was frustrating. They were in Armenia now, had left Turkey two weeks ago in pursuit of the architect of Hydra’s latest schemes. There were a lot of black market deals involved. It seemed the villains were stocking up, gearing up supplies for an attack. There was even rumor of another Bioweapon. Naturally, Steve couldn’t let that reach the public. He couldn’t let people down again.

It wasn’t a sufficient distraction though. It was getting harder to ignore the way he felt, the full-bodied misery that had taken root, had plagued his thoughts since that day in Siberia. Steve didn’t feel like himself, didn’t feel like the same person who had loved and cared for Tony for almost five years. He felt like an inversion of that man, someone who’d only brought harm to the one he loved.

He was starting not to look like himself, either. He’d stopped shaving, and looking in the mirror to see a bearded face, his usual well-kept hair growing out a little, was kind of settling in a way. He didn’t want to see himself. Pretending the figure in the mirror was a stranger made things easier, lessened the depths of his self loathing, even if it was just a fraction.

He didn’t sleep well. How could he? The bed felt cold and empty without Tony at his side, without his soft sighs, the occasional unconscious mumble. Steve missed the smell of vanilla and whiskey all around. No smell could replace it. He’d gone to the Quinjet one night, without telling the others, to search for something of Tony’s, anything, to get that smell back, to have that comfort. All he found was a spare hoodie, and an old t-shirt, and they would have to do. They weren’t enough.

Steve may have been a super soldier, but even he couldn’t stave off Bond Sickness forever. He could feel himself slipping, a little more every day. He feigned nonchalance most days, could still function as if nothing was wrong, but he knew that eventually, it would get to him. It was getting harder to stay on track, to think about anything besides what he’d done, and how much he missed Tony. The discomfort in his neck had risen to a constant pain, and more than once he found himself shivering despite the summer heat.

The others, naturally, noticed. With little to entertain them otherwise, they had taken to watching Steve. They did their best to placate him, to assure him that everything that happened wasn’t his fault, but that was actually part of the problem. Didn’t they understand that it _was_ his fault? All of it? Couldn’t they see that he was the problem, that he had destroyed everything while Tony scrambled to keep the pieces together? Steve had been blinded by fear for Bucky, and by hubris. He thought he could solve everything on his own, thought he knew what he was doing. He was horribly wrong.

The others didn’t see it that way, though. Despite the fact that their world had been turned upside down, they believed in his choice, in the choice they all had made in following him. Steve didn’t understand it, really. In fact, it only made him feel more lonely. He wished they would curse him, blame him for everything that had happened, as Tony was surely doing. They wouldn’t. Their sympathy was overwhelming, and undeserved, and it was slowly driving Steve to insanity.

He hated it. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he hated it. He hated that they still looked up to him, that they trusted him to make the decisions and to make them right. Hadn’t they seen where his leadership took them? Could they be so _blind_? He thought about it often, out on missions, or late at night when he was struggling to sleep, drowning in his regrets. 

Over the weeks, Steve’s usual calm, somber demeanor was slowly starting to disappear, replaced with a melancholy anger. He didn’t speak as much as usual, hardly laughed, and focused exclusively on their missions to drive down the bitterness that had set in his mind. He had nothing else, really.

Tonight, they would finally (hopefully) corner the leader of the Hydra cell. Bruno Wustler was someone no one on the team was familiar with, but who was clearly a fanatic. They’d gotten his name, heard about him, read about him at the facility in Turkey. His motivations weren’t entirely clear, and that made him dangerous. None of his subordinates were really willing to talk, but Steve had dealt with enough Hydra agents over the years to get them to squeal. Hydra’s followers were insanely loyal, for the most part, but there was always a weak link, a hole in the fabric, usually some young, impressionable person who was down on their luck and looking for a way to make it. Hell, that’s what Wanda and her brother had been.

She was distant, these days, and sad. She hadn’t particularly been surprised that her new life among the team fell apart, but it still hurt. She did her best to stay in good spirits, but it was clear it was just for show. The others could see she missed the compound, and more specifically, missed Vision, and it only made Steve’s guilt grow exponentially. He really needed a win, needed to feel any sense of usefulness to make up for everything he’d ruined.

It was around 8pm when they reached the perimeter of an old machine part factory, the supposed hideout they were meant to infiltrate. The hot, June air had dropped to a cool evening breeze, and there were storm clouds gathering in the distance, making it dark, even though the sun had barely begun to set.

Steve missed his shield.

He thought about where it must be, what Tony would’ve done with it. It was a part of him, and he’d left it behind, just like he’d left behind his other half, his bond mate.

Steve had never been fond of guns, even during the war, but found himself using them now, on occasion. Without his shield, he had to adapt, relied even more on his hand-to-hand combat skills, and more than a few dirty tricks he’d learned during his time at SHIELD. Funny. Hydra had trained him well, and he was using that training right back against them now.

With Sam on lookout and Wanda reserved as the element of surprise, Steve and Natasha made quick work sweeping through the factory, closing in on the main office, where their target lay. It wasn’t particularly easy, and it never was, but it could have been worse, all things considered. They thankfully had the element of surprise, so it took a good fifteen minutes for the Hydra agents to get their bearings. The resistance they were met with increased exponentially as they closed in on their target, heavily armored and a variety of suspiciously familiar tech (mostly pilfered and modified Ultron remains, which, almost two years after the fact seemed a little insane, but then again, Hydra had always been good at getting their grubby little hands on things they shouldn’t be able to) which would have been easier to combat with a shield, but wasn’t impossible to handle with what they had.

Steve was…more than a little aggressive in his takedowns tonight. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, a nagging anxiety deep in his chest, and he wondered how Tony was doing, how he was feeling. He’d always been able to know, more or less, when something was wrong, since they bonded. The connection ran deep, deeper than it maybe should, but Steve had never thought badly of it. Then again, he never anticipated ruining their relationship, being stuck on the other side of the world with no way to truly connect with Tony.

He wondered if things were okay. He wondered if the bruises had healed up. He wouldn’t have to wonder though if the man would just _text back_. He quite obviously had the phone, at least for a short time, given the nasty photo Steve had received.

He looked at it sometimes. He looked at it and thought about what he’d done, how it must have felt. He would look at it and simply regret, wished he could go back and change everything. But he couldn’t. Tony wasn’t giving him the chance, either, and it was supremely frustrating. He knew they could never go back to the way things were, but being unable to come to an understanding, to be given the chance to beg for Tony’s forgiveness was eating away at Steve.

Now, he couldn’t help but let his frustration out on the mission, didn’t hold back as much as usual. He’d always been careful about keeping himself contained unless it was absolutely necessary, had purposefully subdued his scent, his presence, on many occasions, just as Tony had done. It was a talent they shared, honestly. But now, Steve couldn’t relax, was too irritated to, and he could feel his guard slipping, gave in a little more than usual to the deep aggression stirring in his hindbrain, used it to carry out their mission. By the time they reached the headquarters of this whole operation, his Alpha instincts had flared palpably, and his throat was tight with an unreleased growl.

Nat didn’t know how to feel about it, didn’t know what to do. She trusted Steve to keep his head on straight, at least most of the time, and thus far, he was doing okay. It was clear he hadn’t come to terms with everything yet though, and the more time passed, the more she thought he wouldn’t ever. Steve wasn’t used to living like this, on the run, having to watch your back, and being without his mate. She couldn’t imagine what that felt like, the agony it must have brought him. Being bonded was an experience she wasn’t familiar with, but that she’d heard plenty about. She’d seen enough first hand, knew how deep the connection went, and doubted most people were strong enough to survive a connection as strained as Steve and Tony’s was now. Sometimes she worried, about all of them.

She could allow him to be a little rougher when handling the bad guys tonight, if it meant he remained patient with his team. An irritated Alpha was always hard to contain, and a super soldier Alpha besides.

She wasn’t the only one worried about his behavior either. He hadn’t lashed out at any of them, but sometimes his words were kind of curt, in a way they weren’t used to. Steve had always been generally patient, excepting the occasional outburst which everyone had, but now, it seemed that patience was starting to run out a little. Whenever they mentioned home specifically, or Tony, he was quick to irritate, and was unwilling to speak about any of it.

There had been an argument or two in the last few days, about what they were doing, and how they should be doing it, that made it clear things were changing. There was a moment, one evening, where Steve actually got irritated enough to leave a dent in the wall. None of them were particularly happy about it, or what it meant.

Even he’d been surprised by his outburst, and they weren’t sure if that made it better or worse. He had retracted his fist, stared down at his fingers as they flexed, at the redness which would surely bloom into dark bruises, if only for a few hours, and something dark set in the blue of his eyes. He averted his gaze, stared down at his boots.

“I just…need some time,” Steve had said finally, when the silence grew too much to bear, and swiftly left the room, went on a long walk alone.

Sam and Natasha discussed it all shortly after he left, when they regained their bearings, wondering what, if anything, there was to do to keep Steve content, to stop the slow downturn of his health, both mental, and physical. Sure, he was strong, but they knew even he could only take so much. The permanent damage to the concrete wall of their Hostel room was evidence enough of that. What was there to do? There was no way home, no easy way to reach out. They’d crossed a threshold they couldn’t cross again. Any change to the situation would have to come from Tony’s end, and that was supremely frustrating.

For now, Natasha focused on the mission. She wasn’t one to dwell on things that she couldn’t change, at least not when more important things were on her plate. Helping stop the bad guys was a priority, and it was sure to put a pep in Steve’s step tonight, or so she thought.

They had some trouble getting to the main room. At this point their arrival was expected, and a reinforced steel door was placed in their way, alongside a row of guards. The ensuing scuffle lasted about eight minutes, with Sam and Wanda bringing up the rear, and by the time Steve broke through into the villain’s office, he was irritated enough to snarl.

The office was small, smaller than they had guessed. There was a single window behind the desk, and a few filing cabinets on the side. A map hung on the wall, alongside a dry erase board, whose details had been hastily erased. Lengthwise, the room only spanned about 10 feet, which meant that the team was brought quite literally face to face with their target.

Bruno Wustler was waiting for them, sitting comfortably behind his desk. His posture was relaxed, confident, but part of that confidence probably came from his bullet-proof gear, high grade riot armor. He didn’t look particularly intimidating, but then again, Steve wasn’t easy to intimidate. The man’s scent was off-putting though, irritated Steve more than any other Alpha’s had in recent years.

Bruno may have been a little older than anticipated, but was still in good shape. He had broad shoulders, that much was clear, and cropped gray hair. His nose was kind of off, it’d clearly been broken before, and his wide lips were curled back in a smug grin.

Steve’d seen that grin before on countless faces, and it would be his pleasure to wipe it off of this one. Conveniently, the guy wasn’t wearing a helmet.

The blond stood straight, too annoyed to keep from frowning. Natasha raised her gun at his side, and Sam and Wanda took the corners of the room. There was a beat of silence where the villain regarded them all. It was a little suspicious, they thought, that he hadn’t made an attempt to escape. It wouldn’t be the first time a villain held a nasty surprise for them, and Steve was reminded of Rumlow, and the incident in Lagos that started this whole mess.

“Captain America,” Wustler greeted, his voice gravelly. He looked around at the rest of them, hazel eyes sharp and calculating. “Your team seems to be missing a few members, no?”

“We have what we need,” Natasha replied, tone confident.

Steve couldn’t agree with her though, gave her a sidelong glance before he remembered the task at hand.

“The gig is up, Wustler. We’ve tracked down your little operation, and are going to put a stop to it. Cooperate with us a little, won’t you? We’re kind of sick of cleaning up your messes.” Steve announced.

The villain scoffed softly. He didn’t seem quite intent on letting Steve steer the conversation. He leaned back in his chair a little. “It’s a shame that you’re not all here, really. I would’ve liked to see Iron Man. There’s something so elegant about his suit, a perfect harbinger of destruction, don’t you agree?”

Steve’s shoulders tightened at the mere mention of Tony, and he let out a sharp exhale, could feel anger stirring beneath his skin. He had to stay calm. They were here for a reason.

“Where are the weapons plans?” he asked.

“I always liked Stark, admired him from a distance. What a perfect little Carrier, hmm? I, and many others I’m sure, have fond memories of a certain video that made its way around in the late nineties. Tell me, is he still as flexible as he was then? God, what a whore.”

“Shut up!” Steve growled, voice booming. His metaphorical hackles raised. This man _dared?_ He dared sit there, inches from Steve, and say such things about Tony? This was all a game, had to be, but that didn’t matter. Steve’s insides flipped unpleasantly, and he bared his teeth. No one got away with talking about Tony like that. _No one_. He may not have been Steve’s anymore (he desperately hoped he still was,) but he deserved more respect than that. He deserved more than anyone could give him.

The others prepared themselves, weapons raised and guards up. They’d gone from being firmly in control of the situation to it turning sour almost immediately. This couldn’t end well, and all of them knew it.

Wustler kept talking.

“And here you are, without him, and without your shield. Did your mate take your little toy when you left him? I heard a little rumor of trouble in paradise. Disappointing, really. I thought the Great Captain America was a better man.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha beat him to it. She knew this situation could get out of hand extremely quickly. She hated this guy, wished she could shoot him and be done with it, but if he died, they might never track down the last of the secrets they needed. The hand on her gun tightened, and she glared at Wustler.

“Stop stalling,” she said. “Tell us where you’re keeping the plans or I’ll shoot.”

Wustler shrugged. “Shoot if you want. The Captain and I are having a conversation though, and it’d be quite rude of you to interrupt again. I may have to do something unpleasant,” he threatened, and his eyes very pointedly flickered to his desk. Of course, he had a weapon stored beneath it.

God, he was infuriating. Was he that confident, that smug, that he would willingly reveal his concealed weapon to them? Just what the hell was he playing at? Steve had to stay calm. He had to. This was a matter of life and death, honestly, and his possessive Alpha instincts threatened the whole operation, and Wustler knew it.

Steve had always been jealous, mostly quietly so, but on occasion, the lid slipped off the pot, and his possessiveness was brought to the surface. He remembered growling at a wayward Alpha on more than one occasion, when he’d come sniffing around Tony too close. Tony always teased him about it, insisted that he never had anything to worry about, but now he wasn’t sure. Would Tony move on from him now? Would there be someone else warming his bed? He didn’t think there would be, at least not for a long time, but the thought of anyone else looking at Tony, _touching_ him, especially in the way this Hydra cunt was suggesting now, was enough to drive the blond to insanity.

There was an ulterior motive here, he was sure. There was a reason this man was saying all of this, why he was so bold, why he was intentionally bringing Steve’s ire upon himself. Steve tried to figure it out, tried to convince himself to think straight, to look for warning signs, but the bastard _kept talking_ , and that made it extremely hard. Steve’s fists were tightened enough to hurt at this point, and his entire body had shifted forward, his scent strong and _dangerous_ enough for even Natasha to feel a twinge of fear ripple down her spine. She glanced at him, opened her mouth to say something, but then the villain was speaking again.

“You know, why don’t I cut you a deal? I reveal the location of the weapons, and the ensuing plans, and in return, you let me get a taste of that lovely mate of yours? He may have proven too much for you to handle, but a man like me? Well, I’d have him wet and leaking for me in a matter of seconds.”

Steve was on him before anyone could speak. He vaulted over the desk and tackled the man to the ground, his rolling chair slipping out from under him. Wustler put up a good fight, initially, but Steve had been too fast for him (or maybe he _wanted_ Steve this way) and the blond pinned him down, grabbed him by the neck and punched him square in the face.

The blond couldn’t hold himself back. His fist drew back, and contacted again and again, with a sickening crunch, the sounds of the impact loud in the room. Wustler’s nose was broken again, and blood started pouring from it, and his growls turned into sputters, as he tried to get Steve off of him. Steve’s growl was deeper though, stronger, and he squeezed the man’s neck, pushed him further into the ground with a knee on his chest, physically beat the submission out of him.

He could hear, and then feel, his friends around him, trying to stop him, to pull him back, but it was supremely difficult to let go now that he was here. There was a sickening satisfaction in making this bastard pay, in hurting him now, and Steve wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to stop. This man deserved it, deserved this pain for the suffering he had caused.

Even so, Steve wished the situation was reversed, wished he could find a worthy adversary, someone to inflict this pain on _him_ , someone to punish _him_ for what he had done. Somewhere between his growls, a sob slipped out, and he managed to halt his fist, looked down into the battered and bloody face beneath him, breathing heavily.

There was fear in Wustler’s eyes now, and for all his previous bravado, he was a broken, shaking mess, struggling to move.

“ _Steve_ ,” Natasha snapped at his side, her voice a little shaky herself. He looked up at her, tried to quell the remnants of his hormone-induced rage, reminded himself that she was a friend, that she had better control than he did at the moment.

Her face was kind of flushed, and her eyes narrowed. “Let him go,” she said, and slowly, Steve did.

He dropped his hands, and stood, swallowed hard. It was a little hard to think. It had all happened so fast, really. He’d been pushed to the edge, and simply couldn’t hold himself back. On a good day, he could. At Tony’s side, he could. Now, he simply couldn’t. There was a storm in his heart, in his brain, and he couldn’t overcome it, had let it get the best of him.

“Wanda, wait outside,” Natasha sighed.

“I can stay,” Wanda insisted, though the way her face was pale indicated she was less than comfortable with what had just happened.

“Go outside,” the Beta repeated, and this time Wanda complied. Nat nodded to Sam, and he took a breath, braced a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Sam pulled him a few steps back from Wustler, and Steve’s back hit the wall. He felt too warm, suddenly, and the cold concrete felt good on his burning hands. He didn’t look down to check, but his knuckles were bloody. He could feel the slide of sanguine liquid down his skin.

He was distantly aware that Natasha was questioning Wustler now, but couldn’t focus on her words, couldn’t focus on anything but the nausea that surged up in him, the horror. Had he really been pushed so far, in a matter of weeks? Had he really lost his mind so quickly, only because Tony was mentioned? Was it possible to miss someone that much?

Clearly, it was.

He flinched at the sound of a gun firing. Natasha had obviously gotten what she needed, and put the bastard down. In the ensuing silence, they could hear a rumble overhead, and raindrops started to pelt the single window in the room. The storm had arrived.

Natasha sighed, and returned her gun to its holster. “We should’ve known he was stalling. Apparently his little friends slipped out the back door, so to speak, alongside what we need.” She exchanged glances with the two of them. “We’ve got some rats to trap.”

Steve was silent as they left the facility. They would contact the local authorities under an alias, one of about fifty Natasha had reserved, so the rest could be taken care of. They’d employed this tactic a few times now, and although it was always clear they had a hand in the takedowns, no one had tracked them, which they assumed was quite frustrating for Ross and his associates.

Steve felt numb and empty when they made it back to the Quinjet. He was disgusted with himself, honestly, with the way he’d reacted. Wasn’t he better than that? Didn’t he have control over himself? He wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe he just needed some time, needed to take it easy, get his mind right again. He had reached a boiling point, obviously, and it would take a while to get back down. That’s what he told the others, at least, though they seemed doubtful.

He closed his eyes, leaned back against his seat when he reached it. They had just begun taking off when something in Steve’s pocket vibrated. It took him off guard, and for a second he wondered what on earth it could be, if he had imagined it, but the answer was obvious. The second vibration merely confirmed it.

Steve reached into the pocket on his hip, pulled out his flip phone. A rush of anxiety overcame him now, and he hesitated to open the two new messages now available on his screen.

Tony had just texted him. He’d _just texted him_. Tony had sent him a message, had started a conversation, he was sure. It was two days since Steve had sent his last text, so there was no way Tony was answering whatever he said. No, Tony had something to say to him now, and Steve prayed to god that whatever it was would make things easier, would set him back on track.

He took a shaky breath, looked up at his companions. Natasha and Wanda were up in the cockpit, speaking in soft voices, and Sam was busy using an old laptop they’d bought to map out their next move, updating their log with the new information they’d received today.

The blond focused on his phone again, his heart lodged in his throat. He opened the message.

[Watch your back. Ross is coming for you. Might turn into a kill order.]

[Stay safe.]

Steve exhaled softly, read over the handful of words a few times. He wasn’t surprised that the UN was intensifying their search. The team had made quite an impact over the last seven weeks, and he was sure it was frustrating being unable to be found, but the concept of a kill order? He doubted, logistically, that it would happen. They were needed, they were valuable. After all, they were doing good here.

 _‘Are we though?’_ Steve asked himself. _‘Am I?’_

For maybe the twentieth time in the last two months, he wondered if he’d made the right decision in damning the Accords. Steve had nearly beaten a man to death today, albeit, a terrible, villainous man, who had threatened his _mate_ , but still. He wondered if oversight would have been the right choice, if things could have worked out. Maybe there would have been a way to do it all, and without sacrificing anything. Steve wasn’t sure how to feel anymore, about any of it, and especially wasn’t sure how to feel about himself.

He didn’t dwell on the warning, knew that it was simply a fact of life. Instead, he focused on the last two words, sent in a second message, mere seconds later, like an afterthought.

“Stay safe,” the words read, and when he closed his eyes, Steve could imagine Tony saying them, like he had a hundred times before, between soft kisses and a gentle hand on Steve’s face, whenever Steve had to go on a mission without him. He hungered for that touch, yearned for it, and the memory brought another wave of misery over his body.

His eyes stung, and suddenly, he found himself sniffling. Steve’s fingers, covered in flecks of dried blood (he hadn’t had a chance to wash them off yet) drifted over the buttons, and he found himself typing and sending a response. He wasn’t sure if the words were right, if they would even make sense right now, or were a valid response, but he had to say them anyways.

[Thank you. You deserve so much better than me. You deserve the world.]

He hit ‘send’ before he could stop himself, and for a moment, it felt like before all this, like he was giving Tony a heads up text that he would be late for dinner, or that he needed to buy something, and the familiarity of it settled him a fraction, even if he wouldn’t get a response. He didn’t expect one, really, so when the phone in his hand shook a little a few seconds later, his heart jumped.

[I do.]

Steve managed a huff of laughter. The words may have been vindictive, were meant to sting, but they didn’t. The words were better than silence, he told himself, and he would gladly take a thousand insults, a thousand cutting phrases than be left in the dark, cut off from Tony entirely. Maybe there was hope, after all. Maybe someday, far down the line, he could speak to Tony again, _see_ him again, if only for a moment, even if Tony would curse him, would cast him out for good. A second of being together again, the idea of that, comforted him.

Even so, the blond could feel an ache settle in his limbs, an exhaustion he wasn’t familiar with. He felt kind of uncomfortable, the way he had as a kid, whenever he was about to get sick. There was nothing natural about this sickness though, nothing easy about it. The jet felt too warm, and his bond mark swollen and uncomfortable in a way that had recently become all too familiar.

He put on a brave face, tried to keep the pieces together, even as a second text response didn’t come. Steve’s fingers tightened around the phone securely, and he tucked it against his chest, closed his eyes. Tony had given him the tiniest bit of hope, however distant it was, and he appreciated that.

But, with the way he felt, and with the distance between them, Steve knew that things were going to get worse.

Oh yes, they were going to get _much_ worse.

Steve sighed. _‘You’re an idiot,’_ he thought, and imagined Tony across the ocean, agreeing with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, even if it was sad! Feel free to yell at me in the comments lol.


End file.
